Lights and Life
by EternalSoldierKasumi
Summary: Romano always hated cities. They were too noisy, too crowded, too polluted. Madrid, however, was like another world. There was life here, and that was something Romano needed more of than anything else.


Lights and Life

Romano always hated cities. They were too noisy, too crowded, too polluted. He was nothing like the social butterfly Veneziano was, who loved more than anything to be surrounded by people. He couldn't handle crowds, swarms of people pressing up against him, shoving, shouting, ignoring him and his claustrophobic hatred of them.

He much preferred small villages with kind people that never shoved or shouted, and pretty girls that didn't cake on makeup like a circus clown. He preferred fresh air and cool breezes and warm sunlight. None of that was in a city—and if it was, it was just a tourist: here to visit and take pictures, not to stay and chat.

Madrid, however, was like another world.

There was life here, and that was something Romano needed more of than anything else.

Where Rome was grey stone and industry, Madrid was sunlight and faith, and that summed up Romano and Spain pretty well. One was dull and predictable, and the other was startlingly beautiful.

As Romano stood in the concrete-laden courtyard of the Almudena Cathedral on a Saturday night in July, the nighttime lights of the city illuminated the dark places in his heart. It was only natural, of course. Being in Madrid felt like Spain was right beside him, smiling that stupid smile that annoyed Romano. It was so ditzy, so idiotic, so oblivious, so dazzling and perfect—no. No, Romano couldn't afford to entertain those thoughts.

He had too much to lose if he gave in to those feelings. Even if, centuries after his independence, Spain still wanted to spend all his time with Romano. Even if the bastard put up with his attitude when no one else would. Even if, standing in front of a grand, breathtaking cathedral at night, with beautiful people passing him by in a colorful, life-filled city, all he could think about was how stunningly beautiful Spain was.

Because the Spaniard was so dense, he probably never would have noticed how much Romano looked at him; how much his innocent smiles and sincere compliments seemed like flirting to the wishful Italian; how Romano clammed up when Spain got too close.

And it's not like Romano got a lump in his throat whenever he heard Spain call him "amigo". No, he was fine with being the Spaniard's "amigo". Didn't bother him in the slightest. Just like it didn't bother him when Spain talked to other people when Romano was right there. After all, Spain was allowed to have more than one friend.

No, Romano was always going to be the second choice to everybody, and Spain must not have been any different from anyone else. He wasn't full of life the way that Veneziano was, the way that Spain was. Spain would never have him, and Romano knew better than to fall for a lost cause. And maybe, if Romano told himself these lies often enough, that would become the truth.

But Madrid had other ideas.

The lights were so bright here, that the Southern Italian nation was snapped out of his reverie to see the wide-eyed man standing across the courtyard.

"Romano?" a voice called out. The man came forward into the light, and Romano paled at the thoughts that ran through his head. _What is he doing here? Wait, this is his capital, after all. Damn, Spain looks like an angel with all these lights shining on him._

Spain approached him with a confused look on his face, and Romano had to fight the urge to swoon, because he was a man, damn it, and men don't swoon at a simple expression on their best friend's lovely, chiseled face—_damn it, damn it, damn it!_

"Romano?" Spain repeated. "What are you doing in Madrid?"

It took him a moment to respond to that. What _was _he doing in Madrid in the first place? He had an idea. And, looking up at Spain, the way the orange street lamps in the courtyard accentuated the way his cheekbones stuck out, and how angled his jaw was, and how perfectly his curls framed his green eyes, Romano thought to himself that maybe, just maybe, it was okay to accept the thoughts that assaulted his heart day and night.

"I, uh, came to see you," he mumbled, cringing at the way his stomach did a backflip, right on cue as Spain flashed him a dazzling smile that put the sunlight on the Italian countryside to shame.

"Really?" Spain asked, incredulous and happy all at once. After all, Spain was usually the one to drop in on Romano's house uninvited, not the other way around. Romano scowled to hide the smile that threatened to break loose.

"Yeah, yeah, I was bored, and Veneziano was too busy with that potato-sucking loser and the 2D-loving robot to entertain me. So come on, let's go." He turned and started toward the street running in front of the courtyard, Spain following happily.

They walked through the city together until daybreak, Spain pointing out landmarks that Romano had seen a hundred times, and smiling that damned smile, and making Romano think that maybe cities weren't so bad after all.

He needed life more than anything, and Madrid had that, but Romano found, on that lamplit, stuffy Madrid night in July, that anywhere that Spain was had more than enough life and lights to make Romano feel satisfied.


End file.
